Forget Me Not
by A Winter Dreamer
Summary: On his 19th birthday, Alfred Jones is hit by a truck, and he wakes up in the hospital unable to remember who he is. He loses his memories every time he sleeps, and day after day he awakens not knowing who he is. But his lover Arthur Kirkland believes in him, and in a brighter future, even when those around him have given up. (USUK)
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone! So this story is a little bit different than what I'm used to writing, and I think you'll be able to understand why as you read._

 _Just as a warning: This story is a **sad**. That is not an understatement. You have been warned._

 _Despite that, I hope you enjoy this story! Please remember to review and let me know what you think!_

* * *

It is cold.

I can't really feel anything, but I know that I'm in a bed. Probably on a mattress made of _rocks_ , because why else would it be so uncomfortable? Or maybe I'm not in a bed at all, but I can't tell because I can't open my eyes.

There's a light sheet over my body - I can feel it, sort of. But it does _nothing_ to shield me from the cold. I feel like calling out, telling someone, _anyone_ to increase the damn temperature. Seriously, does heating even _exist_ in this room?

 _Am I dead?_

I feel like laughing at my own thoughts. It's funny, because I have absolutely no idea what the hell is happening.

I'm inside my head. I'm not crazy. I'm just asleep.

I mean, if I can't open my eyes, I must be asleep, right?

No...no, I think I just woke up.

My mind feels like mush. So sluggish.

What the hell is happening?

I feel tired. So tired. I kind of want to fall asleep again, but now there's something pricking my arm and I can't fall asleep.

Well, that's annoying.

I try opening my eyes again, but I think the connection between my brain and my body is not doing great, so I still can't open my eyes. Either way, I think there's something covering them.

Which is really rude. Because, like...who gave anyone the right to do that?

But I'm tired, I'm really tired, and my brain isn't working anyway so there isn't really a point in me being awake. I try to sleep again, but some people start talking and it's really disturbing me. I wish I could yell at them to shut up, but their voices are kinda muffled so I don't really know what they're saying. I try to focus more, to pay attention, but it kind of hurts my head. I do it anyway because I'm bored.

"...awake?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. And with today, it's been exactly three months."

"Oh..."

"Sir, are you all right?"

"F-Fine, fine, thank you. I apologize. I'm not myself lately."

"Of course, sir. Anyone in your position would be like that. And you've been so _good_ , too, coming in every day to see him."

I don't really like the sound of her voice. Hey, if the guy's grieving, she doesn't have to sound so _patronizing_ about it. I guess I'm just in a really bad mood and probably shouldn't be judging other people. Besides, I don't really get what they're talking about, anyway.

"It's the least I can do."

I kinda want the guy to keep talking. I know it sounds weird - trust me, I'm weirded out by _my own thoughts_ and that's saying something - but I dunno, it's like listening to an addicting song. It makes me feel good. I don't really know why.

It's kinda weirding me out, actually. But that quickly goes away, so I try to focus again on their conversation.

" _What_?"

"I-I apologize sir, but we really..."

"I can't _possibly_ make such a decision for him!"

"You were...close to him, correct?"

"...I don't deserve to be. I never did."

"But _were_ you?"

"Yes."

I really want to know what they're talking about. Like, really badly. So I can help this guy with whatever he's sad over. It would be great if I could see him, but I mean, beggars can't be choosers.

"Is his family here?"

"Yes. Alfred's brother, Matthew, flew in yesterday, and he said he'd be coming any minute..."

Okay. Okay, so there's an Alfred, and there's a Matthew. Which one is Alfred and which one is Matthew?

Is the guy's name Alfred? But it's weird to call yourself by your name. In, like, the third person.

"Mm..."

Oh my god. Is that my _voice_?

I guess I'm finally frustrated enough to get my body working. But I sound really uncool, so I try again.

"M'here..."

I hear a lot of rattling and footsteps thumping towards me. I suddenly feel a hand on my arm, and it's cold, colder than the room, and I try to move away from it but it doesn't really work.

"Alfred! Alfred, are you awake?"

"Sir, he's just woken up..."

"Alfred!"

Jesus Christ, why is he _shouting_? He used to talk so softly and now he's shouting and I feel kinda annoyed. And this Alfred guy needs to calm down too, he can't just walk into a room and totally ruin my life.

Whatever. I wait for Alfred to come over and for this guy to stop talking, but he doesn't stop and finally he falls silent again. The hand doesn't leave my arm, though, and I'm getting used to it being there.

"C-Can we remove the blindfold?"

"Yes, the doctor told me he might need glasses. But he'll be all right."

"Thank goodness."

A sigh.

And then the world becomes really bright. I can see light behind my eyelids.

It kinda hurts at first. But I have to buck up and deal with it so I open my eyes, carefully, slowly, and at first all I see is a blinding white light. I groan a bit, and when my eyes finally adjust I can see someone standing over me.

It's the guy I heard, I think, and he has really light blond hair - like, _really_ light - and I think he's looking at me. It's weird. The light makes him seem like he has a halo. But he has some really fucking huge eyebrows and I can't help myself from staring at them.

A lot. I think he notices, because he fidgets uncomfortably, biting his lip.

When I don't say anything, he begins hesitantly, "A-Alfred...? Are you...are you feeling okay?"

"Better than ever," I lie, even though I feel something woven around my head. I suddenly have a killer headache, and my body is in pain all over, but for some reason I feel like it isn't important to mention that.

"I'll have to take some measurements," a voice to my right says, but I ignore her as she scurries from the room.

The guy in front of me looks to the door with wide eyes before turning back to me again. I can't really see him that well but I think he's crying.

"Alfred," he sobs, taking my hand that was lying on the bed and intertwining it with his own. I feel really confused, because...uh, that's an invasion of personal space. But he's crying so I figure I should let him do what he wants until I figure out what's happening.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry, and I _know_ you must think that you had to do it but you really didn't, I'm not worth it and I never was worth it and..." he trails off, choking on his tears, and I get worried.

"Uh..." I begin lamely, and I clear my throat. "Wait, what's happening?"

And I _really_ need to figure out who this Alfred guy is. From this guy's description, it looks like he did a lot of screwed up shit.

He looks at me in surprise, and even through my blurry vision I can tell he's frowning.

"Alfred...you're in the hospital."

 _Hospital_? Well, _that_ would explain a lot. No wonder I'm so damn uncomfortable. And there's stuff sticking into my arms like I'm some sort of test subject. Okay, and I'm hurting, so...

"That explains a lot," I say, echoing my thoughts as I try to sit up. Bad decision. Lots of pain.

I shrink back down again, and the guy helps me adjust my pillow.

He looks pretty young from what I can tell, actually. He's kinda small - and by that, I mean skinny - and he seems kinda frail.

"Alfred," the man begins again, and at this point I'm fed up with this Alfred guy. I wish he'd stop talking to me about Alfred since he's talking to _me_ and if he wanted to talk about Alfred he should go talk about Alfred with _Alfred_.

"Look, uh...you sure you shouldn't be talking to someone else?"

After all, the dude's pretty much a stranger and as good as his hand felt - I did _not_ just think that - it's kinda weird talking to a stranger in a hospital.

Isn't the hospital room, for like, family and stuff?

...Yeah. Uh...family.

My head starts to hurt again so I wince, and the guy looks concerned.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and I can tell he sounds pretty hurt. His voice wavers when he speaks.

Uh, okay. Do people _normally_ talk to strangers and expect some sort of emotional connection? Because I did _not_ get the memo for that one.

Then I notice what was bugging me. He has a...what's the word. I sit there until I remember it.

Oh...right! _Accent_. That's what it is. He has an _accent_.

"I mean, like..." I frown, and then my forehead hurts so I stop. "Shouldn't you go, like...talk to Alfred, or whatever?"

The dude's eyes widen - a _lot,_ and I consider passing it off as a joke but that doesn't make sense - and he slowly backs away from me, like I just said something horrifying.

"Alfred."

I blink.

"Your name is Alfred."

 _What?_ He could have told me that at the _start_! Then I wouldn't be so confused! I look at him curiously, although I do feel a bit unsettled that I forgot something like that.

"Oh...uh, okay. Sorry."

"Alfred, who am I?"

"I don't know."

I think that it's weird he's asking me who he is, like he forgot or something.

He freezes briefly before he puts a hand over his mouth, and he gives me a quick nod before he leaves the room.

I never want to hear the heart-wrenching sobs he lets out ever again.

 _I wonder if it was something I said?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Whew! That last chapter was hard to write. I hope you like the next one, and **please** don't forget to review and let me know what you think!_

 _I was originally planning on releasing this chapter a bit later, but that first chapter was quite short, so..._

 _Hopefully this makes up for it!_

* * *

 _5 years later..._

I see light from behind my eyelids. It's soft, and warm. The light, I mean. Well, the bed too.

At least, I think I'm in a bed. I move my hands around as I open my eyes, adjusting to the setting.

So I _am_ in a bed, and it's very spacious. There's a sort of canopy thing above me, and I notice that there's a _ton_ of space to my right. I roll over to my side and notice someone sitting in a chair not too far from me.

He seems very elegant as he sips his tea, and he has his legs crossed as he reads a book. I can't see the title from here, but he doesn't seem too interested in it. As soon as I move, he gazes at me with cool, green eyes.

"You're awake."

It doesn't really sound like a question, but I nod anyway. Man, did I do something to piss off this guy? And wait...why was I in a bed with him in the room? Was he in my house? Why was he in my house?

"What are you doing here?" I ask defensively, even though I still don't know if this is my house or not.

 _Do I have a house?_

He sets down his cup of tea on the table as he studies me, and I self-consciously sit up, resting against the pillow.

"This is my apartment. Your name is Alfred."

He seems tired as he says this, as if he's said it a thousand times and he's just about done with the phrase. Before I thought he just sounded plain hostile, but now I'm wondering if he's been through a lot. Which doesn't make sense, because it's morning. Unless he woke up really early or something. But why would he do that?

Why is he telling me my name? He's acting like I'm dumb. Of course I know my own name.

...Yeah. I definitely knew it was Alfred.

"Why am I in your, uh, apartment?" I ask, moving over to the edge of the bed and resting my feet on the ground.

I'm wearing glasses. Why am I wearing glasses?

I'm closer to him now, and I can see that he has dark circles under his eyes. Now that I look more closely, he looks young, but his eyes seem really old.

Not like, old in a weird way or anything. I guess I just noticed that he seems, like...really wise, or something. I dunno. But he still seems like he's been through a lot, and even though we've just met I kind of feel sorry for him.

He meets my gaze again, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he contemplates his answer.

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, frowning slightly. Finally, he begins to answer again.

"You...fell down a flight of stairs yesterday, Alfred. Last night. As a fellow, er..." He bites his lip, slightly flustered, and for some reason the word _adorable_ flashes through my mind. I don't know why, because I'm definitely straight, but...

Is that weird?

That's definitely weird. I'm going to stop.

"Anyway," the dude says, clearing his throat. "I...found you, and we had a doctor look at you. He says you may be suffering from slight memory loss. You know, from the bump," he finishes, tapping his head. "Nothing to worry about. It's healing nicely. And, ah...your brother called. Your brother's name is Matthew. He let me know that everyone in your house is...on vacation, so..."

"Why would they go on vacation without me?" I whine without thinking, and the man stops talking, staring at me in surprise.

I'm also surprised, because I don't really remember them that well anyway, but since I hit my head on the stairs I don't feel too bad about it.

"I don't know," he apologizes, looking at me with sympathy. "So the only choice I had was to bring you to my apartment."

 _Now_ everything made sense.

But there was that other thing.

"You talk funny."

The dude's mouth twitches.

"Pardon?"

"You have a..."

"Accent?" the man finishes tiredly, and I am surprised with how quickly he got it.

"It's like you can read my mind," I joke, and the gaze he gives me then is so intense, so filled with something I don't understand that I look away suddenly. He seems to notice this and shakes his head.

"Very funny, Alfred."

But he still seems sad, and I don't understand why.

"What's wrong?" I ask without thinking, charging headfirst into the issue.

He looks at me with surprise again before his eyes soften.

He smiles at me, but I can instantly tell that it isn't a real smile. He's faking it.

For me, most likely. And it seems very practiced - like he's _used_ to faking smiles, faking happiness.

"Nothing. Just had a long day," he explains, waving it off, but I stand up, challenging him.

"It's morning, dude. When did you wake up, for you to have a long day?"

"You're feeling lively," he notes sarcastically, and I wonder why he shuts himself off suddenly, especially when I just want to know more about him.

Eh. Maybe he's just weird.

But I _will_ figure him out. I still have a long time to, anyway.

He's still looking at me as I stretch, and I look down at my shorts and T-shirt.

"Are these mine?"

"Yes," he answers, laughing.

"Uh...it's kinda weird to ask you now that I've talked to you and slept in your bed and all, but..."

He blushes slightly at that, and I have this weird urge to tease him, but I don't.

"What's your name?"

It's like he recedes into himself when I ask this, and all warmth instantly drops from his face as his eyes grow hard. I wonder why.

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland," he responds, and he stands up, reaching out his hand.

I notice that it's shaking slightly, but I say nothing.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur!" I say cheerfully, wanting to brighten up the mood as I took his hand and shook it vigorously. After all, _somebody_ had to do it, and it probably wasn't going to be Mr. Eyebrows - I mean, _Arthur._

"A pleasure, Alfred," he says softly, and some part of me feels like he wants to cry. That doesn't make sense, though, so I don't really think about that.

But I still feel a bit pained, which is really weird, until he starts talking again.

"So, Alfred. The doctor says that you are to take it easy for today. I don't know much about you, nor what your likes and dislikes are, so I'm going to give you three options for today. First, we can lounge around in the apartment and watch TV and do whatever you Americans love to do the most. Second, we can take a walk in the town and stop by for lunch, walk around in a park and perhaps watch a movie later in the evening. Third, we can..." Arthur pauses here. "Third..." He frowns suddenly, and he laughs to himself briefly. "I must be turning into you," he murmurs, but I don't really understand what he means by that.

"Hey," I say in a low voice, thinking it was an insult, but all he does is laugh as he looks at me again.

"Sorry. Forget I said that." He shakes his head. "What would you like to do today, Alfred?"

I love free days. I don't know why, but the concept of getting to do whatever I want is freaking _amazing_.

"Are you coming with me?" I ask, hoping that the answer would be yes.

"Unfortunately," Arthur snorts. "Matthew is out of town, so I'm the one who is charged with looking after you."

"Cool!" I respond enthusiastically. My heart is practically soaring as I think of all the things I want to do.

Uh...

Which is...

"What were the options again?"

Arthur looks like he expects this, so he patiently repeats them again, giving me the third option of going to an amusement park.

And of course, I chose the amusement park. Who wouldn't? Sounds like fun! I mean, the word 'amusement' is in it, right?

"So what kinds of things are in an amusement park?" I ask excitedly.

"Oh, roller coasters and things of that sort. Rides. Carnival stalls, perhaps. Lots of food, so you'll find yourself right at home there."

"Awesome!" I chirp happily.

And when Arthur smiles at me, it feels genuine. I laugh as poke his cheek, and he recoils instantly, which only makes me laugh harder.

"Man, you should smile more, Arthur!"

"I-I don't need to do anything of the sort," he retorts defensively, and I grin at him, feeling my heart flutter.

Wait, _what_?

Uh...

Anyway.

"So can we go now?" I ask impatiently, wanting to avoid whatever it was that I just felt and see this amusement park or whatever, and he shakes his head.

"The park only opens midday, so I'm afraid we'll have to eat breakfast and wait for a bit before we can head out."

"Aww..."

"Honestly, you're such a child," Arthur scolds, crossing his arms over his chest.

But I can't help but feel that underneath his prickly exterior, he's happy about it all.

I dunno.

"You're 24 now," Arthur says suddenly, as if he remembered something important.

"How old are you?"

Arthur blinks.

"I'm 27."

"Whoa. You're _three years_ older than me?"

"It isn't that much, you twat," he responds, looking away again. "Now, I'm going to go make breakfast. Any requests?"

"Pancakes!" I respond automatically. To be honest, I just kinda said it out loud, but if you ask me, I don't actually remember having pancakes. I just know that they're sweet.

"Huh," Arthur says, sounding surprised. "I thought you would say waffles."

"Nah, man. Pancakes are where it's at."

Arthur chuckles. "All right. Follow me downstairs."

Just before he leaves the room, though, he walks to the table at the side of the bed, and I notice that there are some beautiful, vivid blue flowers, around five of them, in a dark green vase. Arthur reaches out to touch one of them, and he whispers something that I don't hear. But I feel pain, because he's sad, and I can see it in his eyes and it took everything I have to resist the urge to reach out to him, to hug him and tell him that everything would be okay.

Which is weird, because we only met today.

He turns to me, apologizing quickly before leaving the room, and I follow him, puzzled.

* * *

I pretty much forgot what I asked him for at this point, but I'm sure it wasn't very good because I smell smoke coming from the kitchen. Panicked, I rush in there to find two horrible _masses_ on a plate, steaming and blacker than the stove. Arthur is looking at them with a conflicted expression, and he finally looks up at me, realizing I'm next to him.

He gives me a guilty look, although for some weird reason I feel like he's used to this.

"Uh..."

He sighs before I can finish, walking over to the refrigerator and taking out a plate with pre-made waffles on them.

"You're going to have to give me a while to figure out pancakes. I made these yesterday, though, and they aren't so bad. Would you mind having these for today?"

"Oh, sure," I nod, and he quickly heats the waffles before pouring syrup on them.

He pours a lot, and I'm kinda surprised that he knows how much I like.

He doesn't pour any for himself, though, and he simply takes a waffle on a plate as he bustles around preparing tea and getting me milk.

"You had tea already," I point out, and he turns around and looks at me with a bitter smile.

"I'll need the caffeine, love," he says, and he suddenly freezes. I stare at him with wide eyes, and he coughs as he looks away.

"My apologies. I'm still half asleep," he says with a small laugh, moving past me to reach for the kettle.

"Nah, it's all good," I say, trying to make him feel at ease.

Weirdly enough, I don't really mind it.

He smiles at me briefly before pouring his tea, and together we sit down on the dining table.

"Care to watch TV?" Arthur offers, handing me the remote.

"Oh, sure," I say quickly, staring at the remote.

My mind kinda feels a bit foggy, but I press the red button to turn the TV on and stare at the screen expectantly.

"Food Network is 299," Arthur says automatically. "Animal Planet is 250. Cartoon Network is 900."

"What's Cartoon Network?" I ask, even though I feel like it sounds familiar.

Arthur stares at me for a while before saying, "Cartoons. It's self explanatory, Alfred."

"Hmph," I pout, pressing 299. I guess I have to press the "Go" button too, and I do so.

I'm met with a tantalizing ad for hamburgers, and my mouth begins to water. I quickly stuff a waffle in my mouth, and to my surprise, it isn't that bad, as Arthur says.

"How is it?" he asks hesitantly.

"Great," I respond, finding the flavor growing on me. "I actually kinda like it."

"Kind of?" Arthur laughs. "That's better than before."

I stop, turning to him. "Before what?"

He clears his throat. "Oh, nothing. A friend. A friend, he was here the other day, and he called them appalling."

"Aw, c'mon." That was just rude, especially since Arthur put so much effort into them. "You can taste the _love_ ," I tease, and Arthur frowns, looking away again, a light blush on his cheeks. I feel my heartbeat speed up again, but I try to focus on stuffing myself with food.

"Shut it," he retorts quietly, and I laugh at him.

* * *

"So is _that_ a rollercoaster?"

Wow. Wow wow _wow_. The amusement park is _amazing_ and there are so many people and things to do and _food_ and Arthur is right by my side and he has a map so that we don't get lost.

"No, Alfred," he says, sighing as he points to an icon on the map. I never really got how to use those so I just look at his face instead. _Anyone_ would prefer looking at his face.

...I _need_ to stop thinking things like that.

"See? This is a _ride._ Not all rides are rollercoasters, but rollercoasters are always rides. Do you understand that?"

I could tell Arthur was messing with me, with his smirk and his gorgeous eyes and...

Okay, I know I sound really weird at this point.

"Perfectly!" I laugh. "Lead the way, Arthur!"

I just want to ride a rollercoaster, so I told Arthur to pick the best one. He says he's never been, and that he doesn't really like it, but I convinced him to come with me.

So when we finally got there, he freezes a bit, looking at the ride with wide eyes.

"There's a large drop," he notes, and I nod excitedly.

"Looks great!"

"There's another loop there," he murmurs, tracing the path of the rollercoaster - or at least, what he can see - with his eyes. "And there, there's a drop..."

"C'mon, Arthur! It'll be fun!"

Arthur groans. "Last time I didn't have to do this..."

"You've _been_ here before?!"

"W-With a friend," Arthur says hesitantly, turning to me. "Er...last time he went on the same ride, but he didn't...ask me to come with him. Perhaps because I denied him so many times."

"Well, late's better than never! And I'm here with you, so nothing will happen to you!"

Arthur laughs, and my chest instantly swells up.

I feel so happy, and I unconsciously grab Arthur's hand and race to the line.

"H-Hey, you - let go of me!"

"Gotta keep up, Arthur!"

"You git, watch where you're -"

I bump into someone, _hard_ , and stumble backwards a bit, holding my head.

"Ow, what the..."

"I _told_ you to watch where you're going, Alfred...are you all right?"

His voice grows softer as he peers up at my face, and I nod, looking at the person in front of me.

He's blond and he has a bit of stubble on his chin. He looks at me like he's really surprised.

"Oh _mon dieu!_ Is that really you, Alfred? Oh, you're with Arthur, so it _must_ be you. Oh, fate!"

"Uh..." Okay. He's kinda weird. "Yeah, I'm Alfred...?"

"Oh, Alfred!" The guy walks over to me with grand strides, studying my face. "You're...so you're all better now?"

"Francis," Arthur says quietly, and I turn to Arthur as he shakes his head at Francis.

Francis looks at me suddenly, confused. Then he lets out an 'ah.'

"Arthur..." He turns to Arthur, a pained expression on his face as he pats him on the shoulder. For some reason, I kinda feel irritated and I want him to take his hand off of Arthur's shoulder.

"Leave it, Francis. I'm fine."

"It's been five years, Arthur. _Five years_. How long is this going to go on?"

There's pain in Arthur's eyes, too, and I want Francis to stop whatever he's doing, stop talking and making Arthur upset...

"Until he gets better," Arthur says simply, and he suddenly looks at me with a smile. "He's just an old acquaintance. Don't you worry. Shall we keep going?"

"What's been five years?" I ask curiously. "What do you mean I'm all better?"

The two stare at me like I said something weird, and they exchange glances with each other.

"Er...my job," Arthur explains hastily. "He's asking about my job. As an...editor. At a company."

"Oh, sweet!" I say, even though I'm not really sure what editors do. "That sounds awesome!"

"Thank you," Arthur says distractedly, looking at Francis again.

But Francis just seems really sad at this point, and he shakes his head.

"I pray for you, _mon ami._ "

And with that, he walks away, and I'm kinda glad to see him gone. He's kind of a dull guy. Super sad all the time.

"Shall we go?" prompts Arthur again, and I nod with a grin, following him to the end of the line.

* * *

"That was freaking _amazing_!"

"I-I'm glad you thought so, Alfred. I'm going to be sick."

"Aww, don't be like that! Let's go sit down somewhere, huh?"

"Sorry to be a bother."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm glad you came with me."

We sit down on a bench near a small grove of trees as Arthur sighs, sinking into the seat. He seems really worn out, and I kinda feel bad for asking him to come with me. But I know that deep down he enjoyed it.

"I-Is there anything else you want to ride?" Arthur asks, which I think is kinda funny because today we've done nothing _but_ do whatever the hell I want.

"I mean, we _could_ go on that one again," I say, pointing to this giant boat thing that swings up and down. "But I mean, what do you want to do, man?"

"I'm fine with whatever you would like," he says, and I instinctively reach over and pat him on the back a couple of times. He looks up at me in surprise.

"C'mon, dude! You've literally spent this entire _day_ going around with me and doing whatever I want! And like, as awesome as that is, I kinda want to experience the things _you_ like, you know?"

He seems a bit taken aback, but I didn't say anything weird so he must be acting strange. He bites his lip before slowly asking, "Alfred, what did we have for breakfast today?"

"Hmm? Pancakes! Why?"

"Is that so...I must have forgotten." For some reason, he doesn't sound too convinced.

"Alfred, do you remember what happened yesterday?"

"Uh..."

I pause.

"You hit your head on the stairs yesterday," Arthur said, his voice tired. "That's why you don't remember."

"O-Oh, yeah, right...you told me that this morning, right? So like, when do I get to start remembering things?"

Arthur has this pained look in his eyes that I don't really like, and suddenly he looks down. He seems really sad all of a sudden, and to be honest this entire day it's been bugging me how some of the things I say can put him in this state.

"Hey, you _still_ haven't told me what's wrong. After such an awesome day, how can you still be so gloomy?!" I demand, ruffling his hair.

"H-Hey, stop that!" he cries indignantly, reaching for my hands, but I jump out of his reach quickly.

"Ha! Look at your hair!" I laugh, pointing at his messy hair. He glares at me as he fixes it.

"Nothing is wrong," he says finally, after some thought. He's not looking at me, though. I mean, he's technically looking at me, but he's kinda seeing something beyond. That's the feeling I get.

"Then why are you so sad?"

"I can't be sad, Alfred," he says, but I notice that his voice shakes slightly. Is he lying? "Not when you're here to annoy me. I'm fortunate enough to be with you. That's enough for me."

For some reason his words seem a lot sadder than they sound, and he's looking down again so that I can't really see his eyes.

"Hey, uh...I know this sounds weird...but have we met before?"

His eyes shoot up to me in surprise, his mouth slightly open.

I dunno why I said that. But from the way he was talking I just got the kinda feeling that we might have known each other. Plus, he seems to know a lot about me, and I _want_ to know a lot more about him, so it wouldn't hurt to bring it up, right?

He looks conflicted now, and his eyes are getting kinda watery.

Uh-oh. Maybe that was a bad decision.

He looks down again.

"Have we?" I persist, frowning slightly. Jeez, he doesn't have to get so mopey about _everything_. He can at least tell me!

"Y-Yes, Alfred," he admits, his voice breaking. "We have met before."

"Oh. Uh...sorry. I don't really -"

"It's fine," he cuts in, his voice harsh. "I'm used to it. Don't worry about it, Alfred. Just do what you're comfortable doing. I don't want to cause you unnecessary trouble or pain." He looks up, smiling. "The sun has almost set. What do you say we fetch ourselves some dinner?"

"Sounds great!" I grin, but I don't get what he means by 'used to it' or 'unnecessary trouble.' But I was kinda thinking about food at this point anyway so I decided that I'd ask him later.

* * *

"Arthur! That was _amazing_! Take-out is actually the best."

"So I've heard."

We're lounging on Arthur's couch, watching a movie while we eat the Chinese take-out he got us. I don't think he likes it a ton, but I'm diving into the stuff. It's freakin' _delicious_ , man!

"So have you seen this movie before?"

"Yes," Arthur says curtly. "This is, perhaps..." He sighs. "Never mind."

"What? Tell me!"

"You're going to change it if I tell you."

"Aww, no I won't, promise! Why?"

"Because I've seen this film over 200 times, Alfred."

"... _What_?"

Arthur laughs at my surprise, a pitying look on his face. "Forget it. That was a joke."

"Wait, _seriously_? Then why the hell are we watching this movie?"

"Because you like it."

"How do you know I like it?"

"I just know," Arthur says a bit irritatedly, and I frown at him.

"But I wanna watch something that we'll _both_ like."

Arthur sighs. "Okay. I'll propose a deal. If you get bored - or I get bored - of watching this film, then we can put on another that I find more appealing. Deal?"

"Okay," I say reluctantly.

But twenty minutes into the movie I'm pretty much engrossed and I would hate it if we changed it so I kept my mouth shut, but Arthur's smiling at me so I guess he doesn't mind either.

* * *

Apparently I get to borrow his bed again, and he sits on the same chair he did this morning, reading the same book, as I lie down on the bed.

"Do you wanna do anything else?" I ask before yawning, and he laughs slightly.

"You're tired, fool. Go to bed."

"Nah, I can keep going. Anythin' else you wanna do?"

"No, Alfred. Go to sleep."

"You suuuure?"

I grin at him from behind the sheets, and I hear him snap his book shut and sigh.

"I'm sure, Alfred."

"Hey, you're not gonna sleep here? You don't have another bedroom. You don't have to sleep on the couch, you know."

He looks at me in surprise, and he quickly averts his gaze.

"I'm all right."

"No, seriously."

"I...the couch is perfectly comfortable."

"C'mon, why are you so stingy?" I pout, and I leap up from the bed and grab him.

"W-What are you - unhand me, you twat!"

"That's a good one!" I laugh as I drag him to the bed. He topples over and lands on his back, perfectly, next to me.

"W-What are you doing?!" he hisses, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

"I want you to sleep with me!"

Then I stop because that sounds, like, _really_ suggestive, and I think he notices too because he gets even redder.

"Uh...sorry. Didn't mean it like that. I just mean that you don't have to sleep on the couch, you know? You've been doing everything today for my sake, so the least I could do is share the bed!"

It's funny, though, because I don't really feel like sharing out of obligation. I just...I just _want_ him to be closer to me.

"It's fine," he says after a while, finally meeting my gaze with a small smile. "I appreciate it, Alfred."

"Anytime," I grin, and he slaps me on the arm before rolling over so that his back is facing me.

He flicks the light switch.

"Good night, Alfred."

"Night, Arthur!"

I fall asleep pretty quickly, but just before I fall asleep I hear some rustling from beside me.

I'm too tired to open my eyes, and unless Arthur needs help with anything I don't plan on waking up. Suddenly, I feel something warm on my forehead, and as quickly as it appears it disappears, and the rustling stops.

 _I love you, Alfred._

* * *

I see light from behind my eyelids.

I kinda feel lazy, since it's warm and cozy, but I decide I should probably get up and I open my eyes slowly.

So I _am_ in a bed, though I don't recognize the room, and there's a bright window to my right that's responsible for all the light.

There's a canopy thing above me, and there's some guy sitting to my right on a chair, reading a book as he quietly sips his tea from a cup.

He has bright blond hair and _really nice_ green eyes - I mean, green eyes - and he's kinda pale. He looks up at me, realizing that I'm awake.

He gently puts his book on the side table, and I can't help but notice that he seems really, like...elegant, or refined...just like, his movements and stuff. Anyway.

He walks over to me and sits down on the edge of the bed that's farthest from me.

"Hello. You are in my apartment. Your name is Alfred."

His voice seems kinda tired to me, which is weird because it's morning and we just met, but it sounds...really _practiced_. Like he's repeated the phrase a thousand times. His eyes seem kinda sad, actually, and it bugs me.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"My name is Arthur."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi everyone! Onwards to Chapter 3...please don't forget to review, and I hope you enjoy it!_

 _A huge thank you to the reviewers so far!_

* * *

 _10 years later..._

Okay, so I just woke up and I'm in this strange looking room and I'm kinda alone. There's a window to my right, and from the light it's probably, like, at least late morning or noon. The bed is really huge, and I feel like it's meant for two people. But I'm alone, and the other half isn't warm, so either I slept alone, or the person who slept on the other side left a while ago.

Problem is, I don't know who the other person is. I only see a note on my side table, which reads:

 _Hello. You are staying in my apartment. Your name is Alfred. My name is Arthur._

 _I have to go to work today, so I am unable to be with you when you wake. I hope that this note is in a convenient location for you._

 _You must be wondering why you're here, or where you are. You slipped and fell at the park, and I was a bystander who noticed and took you to the hospital. You've generally been asleep for almost a week, and since your family is out of town the doctor told me to look after you. Apparently, you will have trouble with your memory._

 _No need to worry, however. Your memories will come back with time, and the doctor said your head injury was not serious. When I come home, please tell me if you experience any headaches or pain. We can always go for another checkup._

 _I should be home around 4 PM or 5 PM, which leaves you with a lot of free time. Use it well, and **don't hurt yourself.**_

 _Should you be hungry, for breakfast, there are pre-made waffles and pancakes in the refrigerator. Instructions on how to heat them are posted to the wall. Moreover, should you be hungry for lunch, there are a variety of sandwiches and the burgers that you love so much in the refrigerator as well._

 _You may also use the TV or read any book you like._

 _Should you want to go outside, there's a map by the door - hand-drawn by yours truly - that notes the location of anything you might want to go to. There's a gym, restaurants, arcade, and shopping nearby. I left some money by the map as well._

 _I'm sorry I couldn't be with you today. I hope that you enjoy today, regardless._

 _Arthur Kirkland_

 _(As a side note. Please do not jump over the fence and disturb the neighbor's cat. Or dog. Or parrot. Additionally, please stay out of the garden entirely._

 _Good day.)_

Okay, well, clearly I lost some memories because I don't remember falling down at a park or anything. But this Arthur dude seems pretty nice, even if his note felt more like an essay. I don't really understand what he means by the neighbor's cat, but I think it's cool that his neighbor is so animal-friendly. I kind of want to say hello.

I'm also interested in what's in his garden. He says to stay out, but...that kinda makes me more curious, you know?

He seems like a cool guy, though. But the note seems kinda weird - the paper is sorta yellow and it's wrinkled, and it seems like it's really old.

I wonder if he's trying to be environmentally friendly.

So...to sum it all up, I'm basically in some random guy's house, and he saved me. Okay.

He seems pretty chill with leaving a random dude in his house. What's the word...

Yeah. He's too _trusting._

Anyway, he's technically been taking care of me for a week so I guess I owe it to him to do what he says. Plus, waffles and pancakes sound _great_ right about now.

* * *

So it didn't take me too long to get myself settled in front of the TV with some average pancakes and waffles. I took two of each because I'm _starving_ and there were some other black...masses in the fridge that I didn't really want to touch.

I guess I'd have to ask, uh...

What was his name?

The dude who lives here. Yeah, I'd have to ask the dude who lives here what they are.

Not that I really want to know.

I look around the room and notice that, for a family room with a huge-ass TV, it's kind of bare.

He has a set of drawers next to the TV and a bookshelf in the corner with a couple of more tables and cabinets scattered around the room. It's a pretty modern-looking room, with the furniture slick and angular.

Feeling a bit mischievous, I walk over to the cabinet next to the TV and open the bottom drawer.

Huh. Nothing is in there, except for a couple of pieces of paper. But they were torn to shreds, so I couldn't really read what was written on them.

Why would he keep them if they're just junk anyway? I'll never understand the guy.

I open the drawer above that, and find some toys in there. It kinda looks like what you'd use to play at the beach.

I guess he was a beach person?

At least he'd be fun to hang around, I guess.

I decide to ask him if we could go to the beach later.

Soon, I open the next one, but that one was empty too, and that's when I notice that the topmost drawer has a lock on it.

 _Oooooh._

Okay. Okay, I get it. I know it's childish, but I just _have_ to know what's in there. Besides, I've pretty much invaded the guy's privacy already; one more drawer wouldn't hurt, right?

So I set about scouring the room for the key, and when I don't find it I go back upstairs to the room I was in. I'm guessing it's his room.

I notice that there are a ton of these really nice blue flowers.. _.they look familiar_...in a dark green vase by the bedside, and there are probably, like, fifteen of them? Anyway.

His room is pretty neat, too, and I deduce that he's probably a really organized person. Refined, organized, not too shabby at cooking...

I feel like I'd like him, even though I'm, like, the exact opposite.

I open the drawers and rifle through them without looking at what's inside them. He has a lot of papers and documents lying around, and at this point I stop feeling guilty for rummaging through his things because he only seems to have boring stuff.

It might have to do with his job, I guess.

Anyway, under a huge mess of letters and papers I _finally_ find the damn key. At least, I hope it's the key.

So I go back down the stairs again, and I almost trip - I caught myself, though. Because if I did trip and fall the dude would probably be mad at me.

His name was on the letter, right?

I go back up the stairs, reasoning that I probably won't need to hit the gym, and I tidy up a bit before I pick up the letter that I left lying on the bed.

He signed it with Arthur Kirkland.

His name is Arthur.

Pleased with finding this basic tidbit about him, I go back down the stairs, humming to myself.

I notice that the TV has this really cool ad playing, and I sit down to watch it, reasoning I can always open the drawer later.

But after the ad, the show gets really good, and I get sucked in...

* * *

Okay. I'm kinda bored.

And it's _kinda_ been three hours.

Which means that there are another two hours before Arthur comes home.

I decide it's time to open the drawer. Heart pounding, I slowly insert the key in, and I find that it fits perfectly.

"Yes!"

I slowly open it, my fingers slightly shaking, and I find that it _isn't_ stuffed with Arthur's deepest, darkest secrets.

It has a bunch of photo frames, face down, and stacked neatly in four, clear rows.

"Huh."

I slowly take one out, and I turn it over to find two teenagers smiling at the camera. Well, one of them is. One of them seems kinda upset, and I laugh at his bewildered expression.

That's when I notice that the smiling teen kinda looks like me. A little bit.

I go over to the mirror and study my face, and then compare it to the guy in the photo.

"That's weird."

I place it back in the drawer carefully before taking out another from the next row.

This one had the guy that looked like me in it, with another guy, who...actually, looked a lot like both of us too.

"Uh...okay."

I'm too glad to put _that_ one back, and I take out another one, this time from the fourth row.

This one has four teenagers smiling, the two from the first photo, one from the second photo, and another guy. All of them are blond, I notice, and only one of them doesn't seem happy. I laugh as I stare at the guy who's frowning.

Those are some _big_ eyebrows.

Maybe they're all friends? One of them could be Arthur! Excited at the prospect, I try to bet on who Arthur is.

"Hmm..."

I go through some more of the photos, but I can't really find a common person.

But the one who shows up in most of the pictures is the guy who looks like me. The guy from the first photo. He seems really happy in all of the pictures, too, as if he just won the lottery.

So maybe that guy is Arthur?

At this point, I start to feel bad for going through Arthur's stuff, so I put the pictures back as best I can and lock the drawer again. I go upstairs quickly and put the key back where I found it.

I stare at the flowers for a while, suddenly noticing them again.

I counted fifteen last time, right?

They're really pretty, and I feel like you have to stare at them for a while before you can fully comprehend and appreciate their beauty.

...Then again, I know nothing about flowers or comprehending beauty, so maybe that's why Arthur told me to stay out of the garden. But how would he know that about me when we haven't even talked yet?

I hear the door open and slam shut, and, awoken from my stupor, I rush downstairs.

Arthur apparently came home, and his back is facing me as he takes his shoes off.

He turns around, hearing me, and watches me with surprise before smiling slightly.

"Hello, Alfred. I was able to make it home early today. Do you know who I am?"

"Arthur!" I respond, a wide grin on my face. "I read your letter."

"I can tell," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

So I finally figured out which one Arthur is.

And it _wasn't_ the guy who looked like me.

Arthur's the guy who hardly smiled in the photos. The guy with huge eyebrows. But he seems older now, even though he still looks young, and his eyes are a lot more tired-looking. His face looks a bit more...I dunno...old? Well, not old as in wrinkly-old, but...maybe a better word is mature? Tired? Compared to the photo, at least, so I guess it's been a while. He might be, like, in his thirties?

"What have you done today?" he asks while taking off his scarf and hanging it on a knob by the door.

"Uh...just TV. Usual stuff."

"Hm." He makes a sound of acknowledgement as he walks past me to the family room. I follow him.

"What did you do?" I ask him, trying to start up a conversation.

"I work as an editor of a magazine," he explains nonchalantly. Like it isn't a big deal. But I think it's a big deal.

"Wow! That's really cool!"

"I'm glad you think so," he responds with a tight smile.

"No, really!"

"Have you eaten?"

"Uh...yeah. The pancakes were great," I say, my voice faltering a bit, and he laughs.

"Looks like I _still_ have more work to do."

"Oh, don't worry about it!"

"And how was lunch?"

"Uh...I woke up kinda late," I admit sheepishly. I see the corners of his mouth tilt upwards ever so slightly, and I grin. "So I kind of melded breakfast and lunch into one."

He smiles sympathetically at me, and I can't help but think that's he's...I dunno the word. Cute? Attractive?

I feel like his smile is familiar, and I'm not just talking about the photos, which he actually hardly smiled in at all. I don't know how to say it, but...I feel really happy when I see him smile.

This is getting weird. I'm not some love-struck _teenager._

He makes himself tea and settles down on the couch with a newspaper. I wonder why he doesn't ask me more questions.

"If you want me to go somewhere with you, just let me know," he says, looking at me with deep green eyes.

As if he knew I was getting restless.

I pause. "Uh...where can we go?"

"Did you not read the letter?"

"Yeah, I did. I just kinda forgot. Sorry," I say, and he lets out a sigh, like he's used to it.

"Of course." He stands up. "Wherever you want. The town has a couple of lively places...there's a park, a gym, restaurants, shopping..."

"Cool!" I say, a smile forming on my face. "Come with me to the gym?"

Arthur freezes. "O-Of course," he says, a tight smile on his face.

Something told me he didn't like the gym.

"Oh!" I say quickly, turning to him. He pauses, looking at me.

"Yes?"

"Why can't I play with the neighbor's parrot?"

Arthur blinks.

"Pardon?"

"You said in the letter, remember? The parrot!"

"So you can remember the bloody parrot but you can't remember anything else?" Arthur quips, a small smirk on his face. I can't tell whether he's amused or actually irritated, so I settle for the better option.

"Well, parrots are interesting!" I point out, laughing. Arthur sighs again, and this time, there's a smile on his face.

A real one.

"True enough. My...friend was over the other day, and he somehow managed to climb over the fence into the neighbor's property when I left him alone."

"Whoa. _Really_?"

"Unfortunately. They have a birdcage outside, and he was trying to get the parrot's attention, and the neighbors didn't know who he was and called the police..."

"Oh, wow. That's a mess."

"It was," Arthur groans. "A lot of... _explaining_ to do. I still don't think they fully believed me."

"About what?"

"Oh, nothing. Where did you want to go again?"

"The gym!"

"...oh, that's right. Er...great."

I laugh as I drag him out the door.

* * *

So it probably wasn't the best idea to bring Arthur to the gym. I'm pretty good at everything, but Arthur is, like...

No offense. But he's weak as _shit_.

I have to help him with the bar and stuff, but he gets the hang of it. He's pretty independent, too. He doesn't like it when I help him.

But he gets really _red_ every time I touch him, and I still don't know what that's about.

I use lighter dumbbells when I'm around him so that he doesn't feel embarrassed for lifting the lighter ones.

We walk home after an hour or so, and he keeps pressing an ice cold water bottle to his cheeks.

"Are you really that tired?" I ask, astonished.

"Yes, because unlike _some people_ I don't work out regularly," he retorts, sounding exhausted.

I snicker, and he glares at me.

"So what _do_ you do then?"

He studies at me for a moment before saying, "I'm the editor of a magazine."

"Oh, cool!"

A pause. Silence.

"So, uh..."

"It's okay, Alfred," he says, smiling slightly at me. "Just do what feels comfortable for you."

"Uh...what do you mean?"

He blinks. "Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything."

"I actually saw this really cool show on TV today, I think it was called..."

I go on this huge rant about the show I watched, and Arthur listens, nods, and smiles at me. Even though I'm super excited, I still get the nagging feeling that Arthur isn't feeling well. Like he's sad, or tired, or something. I dunno.

But he doesn't say anything. He just smiles at me, and laughs, and I want nothing more than for this moment to go on forever.

* * *

So Arthur tried to make dinner today, but that didn't really work, and now I _finally_ understand what those black balls were in the fridge.

Later on we just grab burritos at a close by cafe and eat there.

Now we're back at the apartment, and I'm eating a tub of ice cream on the couch while he wipes the table with a wet cloth.

"Today was great, Arthur!"

"...I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Yep!"

"Anything else you want to do before the day ends?"

"We have tomorrow for that," I laugh, motioning for him to sit next to me. "Why don't you relax?"

Arthur stares at me before he smiles slightly, walking over and sitting down next to me.

"It must be hard for you to have to stay in a stranger's house. I apologize on behalf of your family for not being able to be with you."

"Oh, uh...yeah. Yeah, I actually don't remember them too well..."

Arthur seems like he expects this, and he shrugs. "It's only natural. You hit your head."

"I mean, even then, it's cool hanging out with you!"

"Is it?" he asks absentmindedly, his eyes going out of focus.

"Yeah."

"Everything will be okay, Alfred," he says, his voice sounding tired again. Broken. "Enjoy each day as it comes."

"You know, I know you're probably in your mid-thirties, but that statement sounded like you were at least, like, seventy."

He goes a bit red then, and I laugh as he glares at me.

"I-I -" he splutters, unable to come up with a good comeback, and I just laugh at him more.

* * *

He lets me sleep in his bed again, and I feel bad for booting him to the couch so I let him sleep with me.

He sleeps on the very edge of the bed, but later on he rolls right next to me. I think he cries in his sleep, but I don't know. It just feels right, to have him next to me.

But as happy as I am, I still feel sad, because he's in pain. And a bit hurt, too, because he won't tell me.

But he's here now, next to me, and that's honestly all I can ask for, right?

And I never want this moment to end, and I always want Arthur to be happy and by my side, but I fall asleep before I can tell him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy the next chapter._

 _I apologize in advance._

 _Please don't forget to review and let me know your thoughts!_

 _After this, there is one more chapter!_

* * *

 _10 years later..._

I wake up feeling something very, very cold pressed to my knee. Like, really cold.

I open my eyes immediately, startled, and find myself in a...

How do you say it.

Very _precarious_ position.

There's a person sleeping to my right, and we're on a couch so there isn't really a lot of space to move. I'm kind of squished against the back of the couch, while the person faces me, his back looking like it's going to fall off the edge. And, uh...his head is resting on my arm. He's asleep, I think, and we're really close.

I blush slightly out of confusion.

I don't know him.

And there's an ice pack strapped to my knee, which I just noticed. _That_ explains the cold feeling.

My knee feels pretty sore, actually, so its no wonder there's an ice pack there. I wonder if the guy sleeping next to me put it there.

He looks very mature, but when he's sleeping he seems very...I don't really know the word. Innocent? Peaceful? He has really thick eyebrows, and I feel like I should notice them more, but I don't. I'm too captivated by his face.

For some reason, I get the feeling I'm used to seeing those enormous eyebrows, which is impossible. I don't know him.

I also don't recognize the house - and I still don't know what this guy is doing here, right next to me, and I feel a little disturbed.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open, and I find that his verdant eyes match his light blond hair perfectly, and wow, he's kinda hot...

But he isn't that young either, so maybe he's already married.

But then why would he be sleeping on my arm?

...And why am I _thinking_ about that, anyway?

His eyes widen as he lets out a small yelp, jumping off the couch as he stands and stares at me in shock.

"Uh...hey?" I begin, unsure.

For some reason, my voice sounds a bit different than usual. I don't really know how to explain it. It sounds kind of deeper than I'm used to.

"I-I apologize," the man says, and then I notice how thin, how _frail_ he looks, and I kind of want to ask him if he's okay. But I don't.

And then I notice that he barely has any crease lines by his eyes, and I wonder if he ever laughs.

"M-My name is Arthur," the man says quickly, with expertise and a hollow tone. "This is my apartment. Your name is Alfred. You fell down the stairs and hit your head yesterday, and your...knee. I was helping you fix up your ice pack, and I suppose I must have dozed off. I apologize. I am a stranger to you, but since your family was out of town the doctor suggested that I take care of you for the time being." He tries to smile, but I can tell he's panicking inside.

I give him a killer smile, sitting up. "Nice to meet ya, Arthur!"

I wonder why my head doesn't hurt, but I decide I probably should be grateful, so I don't mention it.

He looks relieved at this, and he nods, shaking my hand.

"Give me quite the scare," he mutters, although I'm not sure whether he's talking about my accident or being woken up by me.

He seems like a cool guy, if only a little uptight.

I can't really help myself, so my eyes trail down to his left hand, and I let out a sigh of relief when I see that his finger doesn't have a ring on it.

...That sounds really creepy, I know. I just...I needed to know, for some reason.

I push myself forward so that I'm sitting at the edge of the sofa, but it's hard to move so I decide to stay seated. He goes into another room and quickly comes back with some toast and butter, handing it to me.

I notice that the toast is slightly burnt, but I don't say anything and take it gratefully.

"You...you may notice that your head is a bit addled. The doctor said that you would have trouble remembering things for the time being, but not to worry, as your memories will come back soon."

"Great," I mumble as I stuff myself.

He snorts in amusement as he hurries to the room again. I guess it's the kitchen?

I notice that he has a cane leaning against a cabinet, but since he walks fine I wonder why he has it.

"Hey, do you mind if I use that?"

He pops his head out from the kitchen and looks at me.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's for you."

"Huh." I slowly stand up, wincing at how much it hurts, and he rushes over to me, taking my arm around his shoulder.

"H-Hey, thanks. Sorry to make you do this."

"No worries."

Then I start to wonder why he has the cane if it's actually for me. He said he saved me yesterday. When did he have time to buy the cane?

Arthur hands me the cane, and I take it, hobbling back to the couch and sitting down, a small frown on my face.

"Feel free to watch TV, peruse a novel, or whatever you wish to do," he says, heading for the kitchen again. Soon, he brings back a cup of tea, and he settles down on the opposite end of the couch.

"I don't bite," I say, half smiling at him. He sighs and scoots closer to me.

"So, uh, Arthur..."

"Yes?"

"Uh...what do you do?"

He pauses. "I work part time at a cafe near here. I'm also an editor, although I mainly do my work from home nowadays."

"Oh, cool! So you're really busy then, huh?"

"Yes, but today is Sunday."

"Oh...okay. Sorry if, uh...I'm disturbing you or anything."

He looks at me curiously then, and he lets out a small laugh like I said something funny.

"No, no. You never did."

"Uh...okay?"

"Take care of yourself. Focus on getting better," he says kindly, and I unconsciously scoot closer to him. I don't think he notices.

I also note, as I look down, that I put on a bit of weight. I don't know how that happened since I don't really remember, but it annoys me a bit. I'm not fat or anything, but I'm not toned either. Arthur notices me staring unhappily at myself and smiles at me.

"Would you like to go to the gym later? You stopped going."

"Huh?"

"Oh." He coughs. "I heard from your, er...brother. He called recently, at the hospital, and um...he said that you haven't been...exercising...lately."

"Oh."

Well, _that_ was embarrassing. He'd have to give his brother a talking to once he remembered who his brother was.

"Don't worry about it," Arthur laughs.

"How do _you_ stay so skinny?" I ask, and he grins at me.

It's a childish grin. Mischievous. He looks so much younger, and I can't help but smile back at him.

"Because I don't stuff my face with hamburgers all day."

"Can we get hamburgers for lunch?"

"Alfred, did you listen to _anything_ I just said?"

"Yeah," I tease, smiling at him. "Wait, did I used to know you?"

"No, I'm a stranger," Arthur says quickly, sipping his tea again. The cup covers part of his face so I can't really see his expression. "A lucky passerby."

"And you're okay with me just coming in here eating your food?"

His lips quirked upwards.

"Technically, I was the one who agreed to accommodate you; therefore, anything you consume or do here is my fault and my responsibility. I told you, you needn't worry."

"Huh. Anything I can do for ya?"

He blinks. "Tend to the flowers by the window, won't you?"

"Oh, sure! Where are they?"

"Just outside."

I hobble over to the door and open it, and I see that Arthur has a really nice garden. On the windowsill, he has a potted plant, and I assume that these were the flowers he was talking about.

They're a bright, vivid blue, and there are _tons_ of them. I count them because, why not?

"25. Wow."

How he managed to fit them all in that small pot I will never understand. And to grow that precise number...

I felt this before, too, but now I know - there's a lot more to Arthur than meets the eye.

I take the watering can, fill it up, and pour the water gently.

I come back inside, and Arthur gazes at me questioningly.

"Man, you sure have a green thumb!"

He smiles a bit, but quickly tries to hide it. "It's nothing, really."

"Aww, it's great! You have to give me a tour later."

"Of course," he says, and I detect a hint of pride in his voice. I settle down next to him again, picking up my last slice of toast.

The phone rings, and Arthur immediately stands up to get it.

"Hello?"

"...No. Yes, he's here. ...Yes, you know that...no."

A laugh.

"Of course I'm going batty, what else is there to do? ...No...yes...a joke, really. Oh, you...perfect. Wonderful. 12 PM? Of course...oh, great. Jolly good. We'll see you then."

He puts down the phone and sits next to me again.

"Who was that?"

"Your brother," Arthur says, a small smile on his face. "He's coming to see how you're doing."

"Oh, cool! Uh...what was his name again?"

"Matthew."

"And your name is..."

"Arthur."

"Okay. Cool."

* * *

I kind of expected to have some flash of realization and remember everything, but I was pretty disappointed because I remember nothing when I see him.

He kinda looks like me, except his eyes are violet and softer than mine are. His hair is also longer, and a lot lighter than mine.

"Alfred," he says, a small smile on his face. He seems kinda nervous, but I don't understand why.

"Matthew!" I say, and quickly look at Arthur. He nods, and I grin.

"Oh, Arthur told you about me, I suppose."

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Can't remember. The hit, and all that."

Matthew turns to Arthur with a pitying smile. "What was it this time?"

"He fell down a flight of stairs."

"Hey, what do you mean, _this time_?"

Do I do this kind of stuff often? That's pretty lame. I hope I'm not that lame.

"Nothing!" Matthew squeaks, and Arthur laughs.

"He'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

Arthur leads Matthew inside, and I follow them, still confused.

"It's been a while since you've seen your brother, hasn't it, Matthew?"

"Six months. I've been traveling with Francis, so..."

"Ah, Francis. And how _is_ that frog doing?"

"Arthur, you're too harsh on him."

"I don't believe I am. Continue."

"He's doing well. He says he misses you."

"Tch."

"No, really. It's been what, two years?"

"He's..." Arthur's voice lowers to a whisper, and it's hard to make out what they're saying, but I try my best.

"He says he's sad, seeing Alfred like that. He doesn't like coming over."

My heartbeat speeds up a bit. What does _that_ mean? I go closer to them, but they realize I'm listening and they stop, turning around.

"Oh, Alfred. Would you mind catching up with Matthew while I fetch us some lunch?"

"Uh, sure."

"Great."

He gives me a tight smile before he grabs his bag and leaves the apartment.

Matthew stares at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry, dude. I really don't remember anything."

I see his eyes fall a bit, but it's kinda like he expected it. He shakes his head.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, besides my banged-up knee."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"So you're my brother?"

"Yes."

"So, uh...are our parents still around, or...?"

Matthew looks a bit taken aback, like I mentioned something I shouldn't have.

"No, Alfred. They died when we were young."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

I realize that it's weird for me to feel sorry about my own parents, like I'm a stranger, but I don't say anything else. It kinda feels awkward between us, and I wish that Arthur would come back soon.

"So...you really don't remember anything, still?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"Not even about Arthur?"

I pause.

"What about Arthur?"

Matthew suddenly looks sad and averts his gaze.

"Oh, yeah, I mean, Arthur's a real nice guy. This morning he told me we were complete strangers, but he still helped me and fed me and all that."

"Yes, Arthur's...unbelievably strong," Matthew says, his voice quivering. "I don't understand how he does it."

"Does what?"

"Oh." Matthew looks up at me again, his eyes slightly watery. "Um...taking care of people. He does that a lot, you know."

I frown. "Oh, so like...volunteering?"

"Of a sort."

"He said he was a part time waiter. Is that what you mean?"

"No. Besides that."

"Huh. When does he have _time_ for all this stuff?" I wonder aloud, and Matthew laughs.

"I wonder the same."

I smile at him, as if some ice was broken.

"What do you do again?"

* * *

When Arthur comes back, Matthew and I are sitting on the couch chatting. He seems relieved as he puts down the bag on the table.

"A hamburger for you, Alfred, and a chicken sandwich for Matthew."

"Thanks, man!"

"Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur smiles at us as he takes off his jacket.

His jacket seems kinda worn out, actually, and his shirt looks like it's too big for him. I wonder if he's doing well financially.

"Play a film, Alfred," Arthur says, pointing to the TV. "We can watch as we have lunch."

"Oh, sure!" I hobble over to the DVD rack and pick out a sci-fi movie.

"As always," Matthew sighs, and Arthur laughs.

* * *

Eventually, as the movie finishes, I lie down on the couch lazily while Matthew and Arthur go into the kitchen. I hear them talking again, so I lower the volume carefully and sneak behind the wall to eavesdrop.

Because you're _never_ too old to eavesdrop.

"How do you _do_ it, Arthur?"

"Just being with him is enough."

"But having to repeat yourself over and over? Arthur...I...I feel so sad just thinking about what you're going through..."

My heart pounds in my chest as I hold my breath. What's wrong with Arthur? Did something happen? Why is he suffering?

"It's hard at times, yes. But I've told you this before and I will tell you this again - he's worth more than my sadness. And it's all my fault anyway."

"Of _course_ it's not your fault, Arthur!"

I've never heard Matthew shout before. I _really_ want to know what they're talking about now.

"It never was your fault! It was an _accident_ , and you know that!"

"No," Arthur cuts him off, his tone harsh. "No, it was my fault. If I hadn't run away from him..."

I'm beginning to wonder who the guy they're talking about is. I feel like it'd be weird to just jump in on the conversation, so I go on listening.

"Arthur...things happen without our control."

"I know. But I..." Arthur's voice begins to waver, and I hear a shuffling sound.

"Arthur...you've done more for him than anyone ever could. But...but I can't bear to see you like this anymore..."

"I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you're not!"

"Matthew...I appreciate it, but..."

"I-I mean...I don't really like this option either, but don't you think it would be best for both of you?"

A pause.

"Well I mean, he wouldn't know either way, but...you could always go see him, you know? Whenever you wanted. Francis was saying the same thing..."

Who _is_ this Francis guy?

"Matthew, I love him."

"I know you do, Arthur. More than any of us combined. I _still_ can't believe you've been doing this for _twenty-five years_! Every day...every minute..."

"It isn't a big deal."

"Of _course_ it is, Arthur! And I just...I can't see you like this anymore..."

"I-I can't leave him," Arthur says, his voice breaking, and then I realize he's crying, and before I can stop myself I barge in there, a huge frown on my face.

Arthur _is_ crying, and he looks up at me with surprise. Matthew freezes, his eyes wide.

"A-Alfred..."

"Arthur, what's wrong? Who's this guy you're talking about? What's going on?"

"Alfred, did you switch off the TV?" Arthur asks me in an unnervingly calm voice. It sounds very practiced, even though his face says otherwise.

"What the hell does the TV have to do with this?"

"Did you?"

"Uh...yes."

"I can still hear the music playing in the background."

"Okay, fuck the movie. What's happening?"

Arthur looks down again, and I walk towards him, pain in my chest. The ache in my knee feels like nothing now.

"I-It's nothing. Just a small spat we're having."

"Uh-huh. So why are you crying?"

"People cry all the time."

"Oh, Alfred," Matthew says, his voice sorrowful. "Not now. Please. Not now, when he's already like this..."

"Why won't you guys just tell me what's happening?" I demand, frustrated.

But Arthur just shakes his head vigorously, swiping at his tears with his hands.

But it's futile, and they don't stop.

And before I can think I'm in front of him, and I gently wrap my arms around him.

He seems so much smaller in my arms.

It kind of reminds me of when I woke up and saw him lying next to me.

"Hey," I say softly. "Whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. We can work through it."

I feel slightly embarrassed at hugging a guy I only met today, but he leans into me, and I think he cries even more.

Matthew wordlessly leaves the room, leaving us alone in the kitchen.

"A-Alfred," Arthur begins, but he breaks out in another fit of sobs, and it pains me how he tries to stop, how he tries to keep them silent, but it doesn't work. I squeeze him tighter, and I _want_ him to cry, I _want_ him to let out whatever he's been holding in. I know I'm probably not enough for him, but I'm grateful that he trusts me enough to show me his tears.

I _want_ to be by his side and make him happy.

The realization sort of startles me, but I don't have a lot of time to think about it since Arthur is pushing on my chest.

"Nope," I say, as gently as possible. "You're not done yet."

"I am, you twat."

His voice is more like normal now, and my right shoulder feels soaked with tears.

But I squeeze him again, and his arms fall with barely any resistance.

"Idiot."

"Love you too," I joke, and I feel him stiffen, and then relax.

He cries a bit after that, but I know he'd deny it if I asked.

* * *

I hear them arguing again in the evening, and I'm surprised that they don't bother to keep their voices down.

"They don't take care of them well there, you know that...especially in this small town..."

"But it's better than...it'll be better for _you_ , right?"

"But it won't be for _him_. I'm done with this discussion, Matthew."

Silence.

They come into the living room again, settling down on the couch.

We went for a walk in the park in the afternoon, and some random kids playing ran into Arthur, which I thought was pretty funny. Then we came back. And now we're sitting here, watching the news.

Except Arthur's reading a book now, and Matthew doesn't seem too interested in the news anyway.

"So who's Francis?" I ask bluntly, and Matthew looks up at me with a small smile.

"A...um...a friend of mine. He's known us since we were little."

"Oh, so like a childhood friend?"

"Yeah...maybe a little bit later than that. We went to high school with him."

"Oh, cool. What's he like?"

"He's a charming man," Matthew says, musing. "Flirtatious. Kind of annoying sometimes, but he means well."

"Yikes. I already don't like him."

Matthew laughs. "Well, next time he comes over you can -..." Matthew stops, as if remembering something, and he looks down.

...Okay, then.

"I'll invite him over sometime," Arthur says, putting down his book. "Perhaps we can all go on a trip together."

Matthew's eyes widen, and I unconsciously mirror him.

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. After all, if we're there to watch you, I'm sure the doctor wouldn't mind."

"Sweet!"

"Where are we going?" Matthew asks, but I see the concern in his eyes as he stares at Arthur.

"It'll be fine," Arthur smiles softly. "Perhaps a cruise?"

"That sounds awesome!" I chime in.

"Does it?" Arthur repeats offhandedly, smiling to himself. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before, actually."

"Maybe because you're a worrywart?" Matthew offers, and Arthur frowns at him.

"Oh, shut it," he says, and Matthew and I laugh.

The word 'brother' suddenly flashes through my mind, and I feel like for the first time, I feel a connection with him.

And with Arthur, but I knew that since the beginning. I don't need my mind to tell me that.

* * *

I was just about to fall asleep on the couch when I hear the door bang open. I jump up with a start, wincing as my knee moves uncomfortably.

"Alfred! Alfred, are you there?"

"Uh...here."

Matthew rushes into the room, his hair a windblown mess and his eyes alight with panic. It's startling, how out-of-character it is. Panic races through me as I stare at him, my body tensing.

"Alfred, Alfred, oh my _God_..."

"Hey, slow down," I say, standing up slowly, a frown on my face. "What's going on, bro?"

"Oh my God..." Matthew looks like he's about to cry, and I hobble over to him, a hand on his back.

"Hey, what's happening?" I ask as gently as I can, and he begins to sob.

"A-Arthur..."

My heart drops as my eyes widen.

"Arthur?"

"H-He was...oh, Alfred...I should never have agreed..."

"What happened? Matthew, _what happened to Arthur_?"

"H-He's in emergency care."

My heart almost stops.

"He was hit by a drunk driver, and the doctors say he might not make it."


	5. End

_This is the last chapter of this story. As the warning in the beginning mentioned, it is a **tragedy.**_

 _The epilogue is included in this chapter._

 _Thank you for reading until the end, and thank you for all of your support!_

* * *

I don't remember the way to the hospital. It's a dark blur, and even though there are tons of lights on the streets and headlights from the endless rows of cars, I don't see any. We take a taxi there, and we're in such a hurry that Matthew almost forgets to pay the driver.

Normally, I would have laughed, but I'm way too scared and panicked to laugh right now. We practically tumble out of the cab, scrambling to the hospital.

Or maybe that was just me. But hey, I have a lame knee so I think I deserve a break.

We rush to the waiting room, and I'm filled with anger at the fact that we have to _wait_ to see him.

They say that they will only let family in, but Matthew tells them that I'm Arthur's cousin, and they let me in quickly enough. They are probably scared by the panicked expression on my face, anyway.

I feel like crying suddenly, and I'm not a crying person because I'm supposed to be strong.

...Right? I don't know why that thought pops in my head. I think I'm strong. I think I can handle it.

But I soon learn otherwise.

Arthur's there, in a bed that's too white against his pale skin, and his eyes are closed. There's red everywhere, staining his blond hair and pale face and even tainting his eyelashes.

There are tons of tubes attached to him and loud sounds and beeps and voices and I feel sick...

Matthew takes my arm and motions for me to move to Arthur's side, and I do, my gaze locked on his face.

Until today, he was _supposed_ to be a stranger.

So why does my heart hurt so much when I see him like this?

So much pain, so much sorrow...

My face droops into a frown as I study him, but then some doctors shove me out the way. I shove them back, irritated.

"Hey, man, you can't just -"

"Please, sir. We're doing all we can."

"Then why aren't his eyes opening?!"

"Can someone remove him, please?"

"What the - you can't just _remove_ me -"

"Alfred," Matthew says warningly. Sympathetically. We stand off to the side.

* * *

I don't remember how long we waited. It felt like forever, though.

Until someone came and told us that Arthur wasn't going to make it.

"Bull _shit_ ," I growl, pushing past them towards Arthur.

His face is deathly pale.

His eyes are closed.

But according to the machine, his heart is still beating. Feebly. But it's there. There's a pulse, though it's fading, a steady pulse, so like Arthur and so unfitting at the same time. Because Arthur is strong, and his heart should not be beating like this.

The doctors all stand away, they faces downcast. Meaning they gave up.

Why did they give up when he is still _alive_?

I walk over to Arthur's side, taking his bloody hand in both of my hands as I gently pull it up to my face. I don't know why I kiss it.

It just feels right.

And I'm crying now, even though he's a stranger.

My heart just can't take it. I suddenly feel as though I'm the one who is dying.

And just then, for one moment, his eyes flutter open. I see green, and my heart does a somersault in my chest, and I squeeze his hand as I open my mouth to speak. I want to tell him that he'll be okay, that I love him and that I never want to leave his side again.

If he'll heal, if only he'll heal, I can be strong for both of us. I know it. If only he'd live then I'd take care of him forever, and he would never have to worry again and...

But then I see him shake his head ever so slightly, and I stare at him.

He looks to his hand, tightly wrapped in mine, and then at me. And then he smiles.

And as he closes his eyes, the machine falls silent.

Matthew comes to stand beside me, slowly, as is his way, but I suddenly feel lost. I don't notice when he puts his hand on my shoulder.

I feel nothing.

I just hold onto Arthur's hand, and it brings me back, his _warm_ hand, and a frown creases my face as I begin to remember something.

It feels foggy, at first. And suddenly I'm not in the room anymore, suddenly I'm lost, I'm floating...

 _A white room._

 _Sheets that don't fit me, that don't do anything to keep out the cold. A hard bed._

 _A hand. A hand that held mine, when I couldn't see and when I could._

 _Green eyes._

 _A voice._

 _A kind voice, that I broke._

 _And the sobbing._

 _The sobbing I never wanted to hear again, coming from the man I wanted to cherish, wanted to protect. The man who I wanted to be happy forever._

And my mind feels fuzzy all of a sudden, but somehow, instantly, everything clicks into place.

My life, my memories, are suddenly horrifyingly _real_.

"O-Oh... _oh my._.."

Words can't encapsulate what I feel right now.

Despair and shock don't even _begin_ to describe it.

I start screaming, and crying, and howling all at once, and people are there, and they're trying to move me but I don't want to go, I don't want to leave him. I don't want to leave the only person that ever mattered, the only person that believed in me.

Everything fades as I retract into myself, and soon Arthur is gone and everything is gone and I am alone.

With pain, anger, sorrow, loss, frustration...but they're all _weak_. Not like Arthur.

Arthur was strong. Arthur _is_ strong, he is beautiful, he is clever, he is adorable, he is wise, he is the kindest, most compassionate human being to ever grace the earth, and now, he is gone.

Forever.

* * *

Later on, I tell Matthew everything.

About how I remembered. Why I remembered. I tell him I made Arthur cry over and over, for _years_ , and he tells me that it broke his heart to see me lie on the hospital bed next to Arthur after his death, asking the doctors to kill me too after I remembered everything.

Everything, from how I first met Arthur to the accident, to the years after that...

We are walking on the street now, three weeks after Arthur's passing.

Matthew wants to visit Arthur's old apartment before they vacate it. I tell him I don't want to, but he tells me I have to face it sooner or later.

He reminds me that Arthur was faced with a new Alfred every morning, and that the least I can do is visit his apartment.

I feel shitty.

When we reach, the first thing Matthew does is go to the garden.

I follow him, a bit surprised, and he points to the flower pot by the window.

My eyes widen when I see that the twenty-five blue flowers are still there, blooming, as if nothing had happened.

I feel a bit frustrated - how _dare_ they exist when their owner was dead - and I stomp over to them moodily.

"You know, Arthur rarely shared the pain he went through with me," Matthew says softly, his eyes focused on the flowers. "But he did tell me this. You know these flowers?"

"Yeah, I watered them a lot."

I only remember fragments of my time with Arthur after my accident, but I remember there were lots of times when he asked me to water his flowers.

He never made me water anything else. Only those flowers, the blue ones that always managed to catch my eye.

"These are called Forget-me-nots."

My heart thuds painfully in my chest, and I feel like crying again.

"There's a legend around these, you know. Arthur always liked those sorts of things. Myths, stories, magic..."

A pause.

"Apparently, a long time ago, it was said that if you had the flower, your loved one wouldn't forget you."

I don't know when the tears begin to fall.

"Twenty-five of them for twenty-five years of faith."

Matthew hugs me as I cry, and when I sense that there are tears on my shoulder, too, I realize that I am not the only one who is suffering.

* * *

 ** _Epilogue_**

* * *

 _20 years later..._

I walk along the path, the old cane in my hand as I slowly gaze at the flowers lining the road.

I am alone.

The wind feels good on my face, and I allow myself to smile. To enjoy what he can't.

But I can't help but feel that he's with me, in some way.

We went on a cruise, just like he wanted - me, Matthew, and Francis. It was a six week cruise around the world. He would have loved it.

But hey, we're getting old now.

And every year, I come back here.

The pain still feels raw as I approach his grave.

 _Arthur Kirkland_

When I see the name, I feel it again. All the pain. The love, too.

For this man who gave me everything, taught me everything. Love. Devotion. Faith. Sacrifice.

I promised him that I would live. I would not wander around, a hollow shell, after his death.

It was tempting, though. I wanted to die right then and there, with him.

But I figured, he would kill me if I wasted his youth because I was sad, or because it was tearing me apart.

I chuckle as I imagine what he'd say to me.

 _Belt up, you twat! I spent a good twenty-five years taking care of you, and **this** is what you do?_

His face would be slightly red, his thick eyebrows furrowed, and I'd call him adorable and he'd blush even more...

Matthew told me about the letter a week after he died. The letter that he left me.

He was prepared until the end. He hoped, he had _faith_ in me, even after his death.

I have it with me, and I reach into my pocket and take it out carefully.

The paper is old. Crinkled. Like the notes he used to leave me, the same notes over and over again...

 _'To Alfred._

 _I cannot imagine what you must be feeling. If you are reading this, then thank Matthew for me. He has been holding on to it for quite a while._

 _So, you finally began to remember again. Unfortunately, I am not there to see it. To be with you._

 _For that, I apologize. I hope that I spent my last moments by your side._

 _I always thought about how I was going to die. Sometimes, I thought that you would drive me mad enough to kill me, and a couple of times you almost **did** kill me - do you remember? On the roller coasters, at the gym, at the rink, at the park, and on our hiking trips when I had to stop you from falling off the cliff? You nearly gave me a heart attack. _

_After that, I decided that trips weren't the best idea._

 _But I enjoyed being with you, Alfred. I loved every day, every minute, every second. Because I did not just grow to know you. I learned about the Alfred of today, remembered the Alfred of yesterday, and looked forward to the Alfred of tomorrow. And just as you grew to know me every day, I fell in love with you every day, all over again._

 _And I love you. All of you. I love you, and I know that it will last beyond me, beyond my body which is now gone._

 _But because I know you so well, I know that you will hate yourself. I know that you will think me mad for wasting my life on you - mind you, it was my privilege - and leaving you alone, after you've remember everything. You are in pain, and I wish that I could be there to comfort you._

 _But you are worth it, Alfred. I believed in you, and you did not fail me. Even if you didn't remember, I would love you just the same, because you are you._

 _You saved me by living, Alfred. I was broken by your memory loss, and I can't deny that I did cry for a long time after I found that you did not remember me. But that is infinitely better than you not living at all, than you not surviving the accident and leaving me stranded with your brother and a frog. (Matthew is pleasant enough, however. A good lad, really. But I am getting distracted.)_

 _I have one last request._

 _Please live, Alfred._

 _But do not live for me. I am dead. Buried. My chapter is over, and nothing will change that._

 _Live for yourself. Not because I'm telling you to, but because you want to._

 _Don't cling to the past. Look to the future._

 _I trust that you can understand that much, even with that thick head of yours. Now, I could waste my time and yours reiterating how much I love you. But I will not, because you have better things to be doing right now, and I...am sitting here waiting for you to wake up._

 _You sleep terribly, you know. You really shouldn't sleep on your stomach like that. And you always take the blankets from me; no wonder I've caught a cold..._

 _...My apologies, that was irrelevant._

 _...I love you, Alfred. Sometimes it's almost unbearable._

 _But I will not say goodbye, because I_ _pray that we will meet again some day._

 _Yours forever,_

 _Arthur Kirkland'_

I slowly fold the letter and place it back into my pocket.

I have read his letter a thousand times, but I still cry every time I read it. Sometimes I wish that old people didn't cry, but now that I'm an old fogey and I'm still crying, I've given up.

I also sleep on my back now, so I don't have any clue what he's talking about. I chuckle as I think of what he'd say to that.

He always came up with some witty retort. Well, that was Arthur for you.

I break myself out of my thoughts to place a bouquet of twenty carefully selected forget-me-nots on his grave.

I bend down. My back protests, but I don't care.

I kiss the ground, with all of my love and gratitude, because I will not let the bad memories, the pain, poison my memories of him.

" _I love you, Arthur. May you rest in peace._ "


End file.
